


Don't Imagine Misha and your Tire

by qbubbles



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Based on a photo, Car Trouble, Don't Imagine, Other, Super realism, kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 20:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6625414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qbubbles/pseuds/qbubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't imagine that you have a flat.  You know how to change it, but just as you get out of your car Misha Collins jogs up and asks if you need any help.  You're too stunned to answer, really, so you just nod yes.  Don't imagine any of that while looking at this picture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Imagine Misha and your Tire

Ok but don’t imagine getting a flat tire, and Misha stopping on the road to help you change it.  Don’t imagine looking at Misha in his loose fitting shirt, pulling the trunk door open and softly laughing to himself.  Simply lifting the hard plastic over the spare tire compartment and easily pulling up the tire with one arm.  Don’t imagine him looking at you with a smile and asking if you could grab the car manual so he can make sure he gets this right.

Don’t imagine him giggling at your obvious nervousness, crinkling his nose.  Don’t imagine his long fingers flipping through the book, looking for the tire changing section, licking his lips as he concentrates.

Don’t imagine Misha finding the section that he needs and kneeling down to get to work.  Don’t imagine his hands quickly and forcefully moving over the hubcap, the tire lock, the wrench, and especially don’t imagine the way Misha’s lean back muscles move under his shirt to loosen the lug nuts.  

Don’t imagine how sad you are that the tire is changed quickly.  You’ve had an awkward conversation, but the time spent in his presence you wouldn’t have ever traded away.  Don’t imagine him standing up and rolling the tire back to the trunk, which he lifts again with little hesitation.

Don’t imagine him cleaning his hands on his shirt, leaving grease stains to cross his chest and his arms glistening from sweat.  Don’t imagine him walking over to you to put both his hands on your shoulders to ask if you’re going to be ok.  Don’t imagine him giving you a hug, pressing your face against his thin cotton shirt and being crushed by his strong arms and back.  Seriously don’t imagine what that smells like.

Don’t imagine your heartbreak as he lets go too soon for you.  He has somewhere to be later.  Don’t imagine how much it hurts as Misha continues on his run, going the opposite direction from you.

Don’t imagine any of that.


End file.
